


Heart Shaped Pancakes

by ohbullship



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accident, Character Death, Death, M/M, Sad, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 17:27:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohbullship/pseuds/ohbullship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a crumpled grocery list in Louis' pocket and a lack Harry Styles in the hospital's uncomfortable chair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Shaped Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> this is really old and i didn't edit it. sorry if you don't like it, i'm mostly just posting it so i don't lose it because maybe i can fix it up in the future! comments are always appreciated, good or bad xx

Lying here in this hospital bed is easy. Sleeping is easy. Dying is easy. I’ve been doing the past three things for the past week without difficulty. Unfortunately doing all these things without Hazza isn’t as easy. They won’t tell me where he is. I just know that I still have the grocery list he wrote in the picket of my jeans. I struggle to reach the chair next to the hospital bed and pull the small piece of paper out of the front left pocket. It’s crumpled and still has a bit of blood on it but it can still be read.

             _-biscuts_

_-bacon_

_-o.j._

_-lucky charms_

_-fruit snacks_

_no pulp in the oj pls lou and the Scooby Doo fruit snacks :)_

_love you_

_yours,_

_haz xx_

He cut the paper into a goddamn little heart. Harry was quite the sap sometimes, I swear, but I do love him for it. He often makes my pancakes into heart shapes or spells my name with bacon. It’s so lame and so very Harry-esque. And I give him shit for his heart shaped food and his arrangement of breakfast foods but I love it, I really do. What I would do to see him before I’m gone. I can feel myself slipping away. I’m in and out of consciousness too much. I can’t focus on anything but as I slip away I see his face. It’s miraculously beautiful even though it seems pixilated.  I squint to keep focus on the small clock hanging on the bland wall of the hospital room; 6:32. The setting sun tells me it’s in the evening. It’s the kind of day that me and Haz would eat our supper outside on the patio. The soft breeze blowing his curls. I begin feeling dizzy again. I think this is it. I think it’s going to happen. I clench my eyes shut and picture Harry’s face last time I saw it. Bright and smiley with his dimples poking out as he sat in the passenger seat on the way home from the grocery store because Harry didn’t want me to go out alone. He always was weird that way but I didn’t mind that he thought I’d get something wrong or forget something—because I did. I suppose if this is the last memory I have of Harry’s face, at least it’s a good one. A happy one.

             _Where are you, Hazza?_

**_I’m right here, Lou._ **

_I can’t see you._

_**It’s dark but I’m here.**_

_I’m sorry I didn’t get the right fruit snacks._

_**It was right on the list, Lou.**_

_Rookie mistake._

_I’m dying, Harry._

_**No you’re not, Lou.**_

_Yea, Harry, I am. I can feel it. I’m not here anymore. Slowly._

_**You’re going to live, Louis.**_

_No, Harry._

_**Lou?**_

_Hmm?_

_**When you go home, under my bed is a notebook. It’s a notebook of you.**_

_I wish I could read it._

_**When you go home.**_

_I won’t be going home, Harry. Will you write in it when I’m gone?_

_**I’m afraid I can’t do that.**_

_Why not, Hazza?_

_**I love you, Louis.**_

_Haz, why not?_

_**I love you.**_

_Come back._

_**Forever yours, Boo.**_

_I love you, Curly._

A bright light above my face woke me from my sweet angel. I looked around to see six or seven doctors all standing around me. This isn’t dying. I’ll get to see Harry. Fix me. Hurry up. I need to see my Hazza. I was much too excited to even feel the sharp object they were poke and prodding me with. It didn’t matter. Because with all of this I would be able to kiss Haz.

When I woke up again I was back in the same room as before the surgery. The plain white walls brought comfort to me. I looked to the chair in hopes of seeing my Hazza. He wasn’t there. He was probably getting food. I decided to wait.

After a few hours I figured that he must have went home to sleep in our bed because I don’t know how long I’ve been out of it but it must have been too long to keep sleeping in a stiff hospital chair.

A nurse came in and checked up on everything. She said I could go home tomorrow. She was nice and I liked her. She told me that my heart stopped for a bit but then—by some miracle—I was brought back to life. I told her it was because I’d get to be with Harry. Her smile faded after that. She told me something I would never believe.

Harry couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t have died. The car hit on my side. I was the one who died. I came back for him. God wanted me to be with him. I told her this but she just shook her said and kept saying she was sorry. No! No! God wouldn’t send me back if Harry wasn’t here. We do everything together. We should die together. I started squirming and pulling the tubes out of my arms and yelling at the woman. I got up and began to scream but I quickly passed out feeling dizzy.

             ** _Cooperate, Lou._**

_Hazza, where are you?_

**_I’m watching._ **

_Harry._

**_Louis._ **

_I want to be with you._

**_You can’t Lou. You’re going to live for both of us._ **

_There’s no living without you._

**_Yes there is. You have the boys. Your mum. Your sisters._ **

_Hazza!_

**_It’s okay, Louis._ **

_No it isn’t. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been messing around._

**_Louis, it’s okay._ **

_Harry_

**_Wake up, Louis._ **

_You won’t be there._

**_No. But it’ll be okay soon._ **

_No._

**_Wake up. I love you._ **

Back in the stupid room with the stupid tubes and the Harryless chair. I hate it. My mum brought me home today. She promised to check up tomorrow because I told her I wanted to be alone. I kissed her cheek and went straight to bed. Harry’s smell lingered. His t-shirt still lying—folded—at the edge of the bed. I put it on. It was much too big. But it smelled like Hazza. I tossed and turned in the much too large bed. He usually curled in next to me. It was so empty. I kissed the pillow where his head rested that morning. Then I remembered my angel version of Hazza and I jumped out of bed. I dug under the mattress until I found it—the black spiral notebook with a picture of us taped to the front. I smiled remembering the day. The angel Harry was real. I opened the book and read in his sloppy writing,

             ** _Things To Be Remembered About Lou_**

  * **_He likes his eggs sunny side up_**
  * **_He gets up every morning around two_**
  * **_He likes jumpers_**
  * **_His favorite color is red_**
  * **_When he is down give him tea and turn on the Beatles_**
  * **_His favorite movie is Fightclub_**
  * **_Watermelon gum—not mint_**
  * **_His tickle spot is behind his knees._**



The list went on for pages more. I couldn’t believe Harry wrote all of this down. These were minuscule facts. Things that I’d only mentioned once or twice some when we first met. And he had pages and pages written down. I loved him for it like I loved his heart shaped pancakes. I loved him for all of it. The very back page had a letter attached.

             ** _Louis,_**

**_Have you ever thought about what a soulmate is? I do a lot of thinking about that. I think you can have more than one. Soulmate is another word for best friend. But your one true soulmate is the one that means more than the other people—even if the others are very, very important. I think that the boys are all my soulmates. I can sure trust them with anything and we all know each other so well. I think that’s how it is. But you’re my one. The one that means more than the others. A soulmate is the one you cut the pancakes into hearts for. I’ve only ever done that for one person before. You’re the lucky winner. Nothing can change how I feel about you. The beginning of this notebook is just all the things I thought important enough to remember—sadly for my sore hand, everything about you is important enough to remember. So to my soulmate, I would like to thank you. Thank you for liking my curly hair even though it goes berserk most of the time. Thank you for singing with me as we cook in the mornings. Thank you for listening to my stories as I know that they are usually pointless and take much too long to describe. Thank you for sharing a love for the city with me. Chicago especially. Thank you for laughing at the jokes I read off of popsicle sticks. Thank you for teaching me to open up and be more mischievous.  Thank you for the stars and the moon. Thank you for being my sun. Thanks for letting me give you the title of my soulmate. Thanks for being my Boobear. I’ll love you forever._ **

**_Yours,_ **

**_Hazza xx_ **

You’re my one and only, Harry. I held the notebook tight to my chest and closed my eyes to sleep. Praying to God that I’d wake up to those damn heart shaped pancakes in the morning. 


End file.
